


The End of a Thousand Years

by GracefulCrimson



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulCrimson/pseuds/GracefulCrimson
Summary: A rework of the ending of the film Hannibal.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling
Comments: 7
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one shot, but I decided to divide it into two chapters. The first chapter could honestly be rated T, but the next chapter will most definitely be rated E. This is my first time writing for the fandom, so I hope you like it!

The makeshift weapon in Clarice’s hand feels significantly weightier for one split second as she peers at the scene in front of her. Dr. Lecter has his back to the doorway she’s standing in. She deeply regrets not being able to get a hold of the police earlier before he caught her. She’ll just have to take matters into her own hands first and neutralize the situation. In the gap of the cracked door, the FBI agent witnesses the horrific state of Paul’s surely soon-to-be fatal wound. But it doesn’t register in her mind. What she does make note of is if you take certain things away from the current crisis- Paul, the small candlestick in her hand, the stitched wound near her left shoulder; she feels like she could see this picture in front of her in another life. The Doctor, perhaps her husband in this other life, washing the dishes in the kitchen after a relaxing dinner together. Clarice gets as far as contemplating whether he would put on some soothing classical music and ask her to dance before bed; when her thoughts come to an abrupt halt. She blames this wild imagination on the morphine... or shock, whichever would make more sense. 

Swallowing down any last bit of hesitation in her, Starling raises the candlestick and takes slow, careful steps toward Lecter. Not even a couple seconds later, he whirls around and wrestles the object out of her grasp and pins her against the refrigerator. The calmness in his expression is almost disturbing; Clarice briefly wonders if this is the same look all of his victims received before their deaths. 

“Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me, ‘Stop. If you loved me, you’d stop.’” The doctor asks, the missing points of inflection in his voice at key points leads her to believe that he knows the answer. He’s just toying with her, and it ignites a fierce flame in the pit of her stomach. Clarice uses what’s left of her strength to shove Dr. Lecter off of her, but to no avail. He simply pins her wrists on either side of her head with a firmer grip. The eerie calmness in his expression and voice doesn’t budge when he says, “I came halfway around the world to watch you run, Clarice. Run with me.” 

Not wanting him to give him any sort of satisfaction, she maintains eye contact with him as she replies, “Not in a thousand years.” 

The look on Dr. Lecter’s face changes to that of mock offense as he softly repeats her words, “‘Not in a thousand years’?” He leans into her face, pretending to take a bite, before pausing. With a ghost of a smile on his face, Lecter watches hers, seemingly pondering something. Clarice’s eyes flicker down to his lips a moment, but she looks away quickly so he won’t take notice. Too late. His ice blue eyes meet hers, and the glint of amusement in them tells her she’s been caught. In more ways than one. Every time that gaze has pierced her before, it’s been with some sort of strong barrier between the two of them. It made it easier for Clarice to mentally distance herself; she was always able to remain professional. But now, with him standing right in front of her and nothing to hold him off, she feels as if he’s staring straight into her soul. “That’s my girl,” Dr. Lecter utters just loud enough for her to hear. 

What comes next seems to happen in slow motion for Clarice. He leans in once again and kisses her softly but passionately. Her own lips stay pressed together, not reciprocating but not resisting either. A single tear runs down her cheek. Why? Out of fear of being so close to a man that’s been labeled a monster by countless people for over a decade? Or perhaps the tugging feeling of what could’ve been at another time, another place, far away from the FBI and Lecter’s crimes? She couldn’t decide; or rather, she didn’t want to know. 

“Quiet your racing thoughts, Little Starling. Stress can wreak havoc on the mind,” Dr. Lecter remarks, his lips mere inches away from her own. Clarice suddenly feels a sharp pinch in the left side of her neck, followed by a warm sensation. He watches her expression for a few moments, silent. Clarice just barely catches what looks like a syringe in her peripheral vision as the doctor sets it down on the counter. “I think you need to rest a bit longer, my dear.” 

Her sight is becoming blurry, everything just slightly out of focus. She already wasn’t that steady on her feet from the morphine Lecter gave her for the pain of the freshly stitched gunshot wound. The doctor releases her wrists. “Come along,” he says, placing a hand on the small of her back, nudging her forward. Clarice obeys, and Dr. Lecter guides her out of the kitchen and into the living room. He takes her hand once she gets close enough to the couch, saying, “Lie down and behave.” The backs of her knees hit the edge of the couch, and she sits down slowly before reclining. Doing anything but staying still seems impossible. “Daddy has some things to tend to, and I don’t want to come back to find that you’ve been a naughty girl in my absence.”

Clarice gazes up at him and watches as he leaves the room. She feels like she wants to fight, or rather, she should fight; but she stays still, closing her eyes to battle the dizziness. She’s not sure what will be her fate if she chooses to let go and give in to sleep now, but she finds it harder and harder to stave it off. As she lies there, she replays Dr. Lecter’s words from when they were in the dining room. ‘Would they give you a medal Clarice, do you think? Would you have it professionally framed and hang it on your wall to look at and remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror.’ Eventually, Starling slips into a dreamless state where there’s nothing to worry about, not even her work in the FBI.


	2. Chapter 2

When Clarice awakens, she’s in a different room than the one she lost consciousness in. It’s a bedroom, but it’s not the same bedroom she woke up in before descending that long staircase to find Dr. Lecter and Paul Krendler at the dining room table. This one is plain, not at all Lecter’s style. Starling sits up slowly, not wanting to trigger any dizziness. The more alert she is, the sooner she can figure out where she is and what’s going on. 

“Good morning, Clarice.” A voice says to her right, slightly raspy from not using it for a period of time. Her head snaps in the same direction to find the source of the voice. There’s a window behind the man; with all of the light pouring in from it and the remaining effects of such a deep sleep, it takes a moment for Clarice’s eyes to adjust. However, she doesn’t need any sort of extra validation to know that it is Dr. Lecter seated to her right. That voice alone has haunted her for the past seven years; she would know it anywhere. The way it invades and encompasses her mind is not unlike those memories of her father, mother, and the lambs. 

“Morning,” Clarice mumbles when her eyes finally adjust to meet his light blue ones. “You trust me enough not to run?” She adds when she notices she’s not tied down or cuffed to the bed. 

“Don’t act dense, Agent Starling. It’s really beneath you. We both know I have nothing to be concerned about there.” Dr. Lecter replies. She contemplates his words; does he mean it’d be difficult for her to run because of the morphine still leaving her system or possibly something else? Maybe that she wouldn’t want to leave even if given the chance? The reserved look on his face does little to reveal an answer to either of her questions. He has a habit of doing that. Mr. Crawford was right all those years ago; she should have listened and never let Dr. Lecter get into her head. 

“Why am I here?” She asks, clearing her throat after in an attempt to get rid of the hoarseness from her deep sleep. 

“That’s for you to decide, Clarice. You’re free to leave at any time.” Dr. Lecter replies.

Starling questions that in her head. She’s not entirely sure how true it is. But then again...what reason would he have to lie to her?

She hasn’t fully collected her thoughts before he stands and adds, “There’s a bathroom just through that door.” He points to her left and she follows the direction of it with her gaze. “You’ve been unconscious for quite a while. A shower might help you feel more yourself.” 

Hearing his last statement almost makes her laugh. She’s so far from her normal self at this point. If anyone would’ve told her a month ago that she’d be in the position she’s in now, Clarice would’ve turned them into an institution with the same amount of security precautions that Lecter had back in Baltimore. 

Agent Starling pushes herself to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom door. As she swings her legs over the edge, Dr. Lecter all but rushes to her side, gently grabbing her right hand and arm to help her up. At first, Clarice bristled at his touch, instinct stepping in. Once she realizes he is only trying to assist her to the bathroom, she relaxes a little; not completely letting her guard down, but enough that he feels a difference in her demeanor. She allows him to help her to the bathroom door but pauses there. 

“I can take it from here. Thank you.” Clarice commanded softly. 

With a nod, the doctor steps away from her. “Call me if you need any assistance. And do not get your stitches wet, we don’t want to risk you getting an infection.” Starling nods in return before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her. 

She notices a few things on the counter around the sink, and decides to inspect that further before showering. She relieves herself then steps over to the sink to wash her hands. She finds a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash still in their packaging seemingly waiting for her. Clarice opens all of them up and brushes her teeth, wanting to feel as clean as possible after the rough however many days she’s been with Dr. Lecter. Once she’s done, she glances between the shower and the large bathtub. She knows he’s right; she shouldn’t get her stitches wet. In the end, Starling finds herself running a bath. While the water fills up, she undresses. She can’t help but look at herself in the mirror as she waits. There’s some bruising here and there from the violence she endured while rescuing Dr. Lecter. Near her left shoulder around the gunshot wound, on her right forearm, and on her right hip and side of her thigh. She trails a finger up her thigh, wondering if he had seen the bruises yet. Clarice shakes her head after a moment of pondering. Of course he has. He put her in that dress after stitching up her wound while the drugs were coursing through her veins. 

Starling steps into the bath and turns the faucet off once the water has risen enough. All the while, her mind starts to wander further. As she sits back in the tub, she wonders whether Lecter saw her body or if his experience as a surgeon made him fail to really take notice of any part that wasn’t in need of medical attention. Her mind begins going down a darker, treacherous path, but Clarice brings it all to a halt by washing her body with the soap sitting on the side of the tub. Now finished with that task, she lets her head rest back against the wall behind her and her eyes close, thinking of blissful nothingness for a minute or two before her mind starts racing again. 

“Dr. Lecter.” She calls out. Starling glances around the room while she tries to listen for any sign of movement beyond the bathroom door. 

In mere moments, he opens the door and walks in, stopping just a few steps from the tub. His eyes quickly glance over her, assessing her state to figure out what she needs help with. “Yes, Clarice?” 

She sits up just a little more in the bathtub, not meaning anything by it, just getting more comfortable while not submerging the stitches. However, this catches his attention; his eyes immediately roam over her form once more, but slowly and far from clinical this time. 

‘Interesting.’ She thinks to herself.

“Quid pro quo, Doctor.” Clarice says, her confidence growing with the way he’s looking at her. 

The confidence almost completely leaves her body when his eyes snap up to meet hers at the utterance of the phrase that was the beginning of all their little games they played during his time at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He doesn’t fail to notice the blush rising in her cheeks and decides to take it a step further by sitting on the edge of the tub. Starling stiffens slightly with the close proximity, and he can’t help but take delight in it. After all these years and all the exchanges, Lecter still has the power to influence Clarice in one way or another. 

“I’m sure you recall how this game starts, Little Starling. You give me information first.” His eyes bore into hers, effectively unnerving her with a short silence following his statement. 

The way he’s looking at her is like that of a predator watching their prey, waiting for them to make one fatal slip up. Her breath hitches, and it takes everything in her to remain calm and collected on the outside. “What do you want to know this time?” 

Dr. Lecter raises his eyes to the ceiling, considering his options. In the silence, Clarice stays perfectly still, watching him, waiting. When his eyes meet hers again, there is no room for doubt; he’s sure of his next move. “I would assume growing up Lutheran, you had a complicated relationship with your own sexuality. Is that correct?”

She isn’t sure what she was expecting for him to say, but Clarice has to admit- it wasn’t that. However, she recognizes that any topic is up for discussion in a game of quid pro quo with the doctor. “In a way.” She answers simply.

He nods in acknowledgment. “You may take your turn, Agent Starling.” 

Clarice takes a deep breath, mulling over whether she wants to proceed, not wanting to waste a question. She watches the suds slide down on either side of her knee as she raises it slightly out of the water. He remains seated at her side, patiently awaiting a response. “If I try to leave, will you stop me?”

He sucks in a breath after she presents her question, almost as if it pains him to answer. “No. You are free to go whenever you’d like. Although, I don’t recommend it in your current state; it’s best to wait at least a week.” She nods, thinking over his words, unsure of her decision. 

“Quid pro quo...when was the last time you masturbated, Clarice?” Lecter asks her in a very clinical tone.

Feeling her face flush at the question, she reminds herself that the only way to get information is to keep playing the game. “I can’t recall, Doctor.”

He pushes forward with the question by adding, “How many times within the past year?” 

She sighs. “Once...maybe twice. It’s hard to find the time and energy for it being a field agent.” 

Dr. Lecter nods slightly. “Ah yes, that.” His eyes downcast at the floor now, Clarice can see the wheels turning in his mind. She’s not sure what he’s thinking about; but with the experience she’s gained from being around him, she knows he’s planning something. 

“Quid pro quo, Doctor. Given your criminal record…” Starling has to pause before continuing, not certain she welcomes a reply to this one. “Have you ever considered…” Not knowing how to word it, she pauses again. 

“You seem to be having trouble with this one, Clarice. Have I ever considered eating you?” He asks, watching her with rapt attention, like a predator about to pounce on its prey. She makes brief eye contact with him before looking back down at the water, his gaze too intense. “Yes, I have. Many times.” She feels her stomach drop at the admission. He continues, “But perhaps not in the way you assume of me.” 

It takes a few seconds for that to register with her. When she realizes what he means, her face flushes a deeper shade of red. 

Lecter moves on, only allowing her a few moments of silent reflection before changing the subject. “Now Little Starling, this next portion of my question will require an element of trust. You’ll need to do exactly as I say. Do you wish to continue?” 

Clarice’s eyes meet his as she nods and replies, “Yes.”

With that, he doesn’t waste any more time. “Close your eyes, Clarice.” Uncharacteristically obedient, she goes along with his command. “Now, using your right hand, I want you to lightly run it up your thigh. Just barely ghosting the skin.” He observes her actions like a teacher walking their student through a mathematical equation. “That's it. Take a few deep breaths; let go of the stress life has inflicted upon you.”

She does exactly that, and it helps a bit in calming her racing heart. Clarice doesn’t know how far he’ll go with this or what his intentions are, but she continues to play the game. 

“Now, I want you to touch yourself however you see fit. But the moment you begin, I want you to picture whatever you truly desire.” 

Having her eyes closed helps keep her nerves at bay enough for her to start. Running her fingers over her labia, she teases herself as she pictures what she wants most right now. Her mind conjures up the fantasy way too easily. 

He closes his eyes and inhales her scent, savoring it. He has never been more appreciative of his keen sense of smell than in this moment. When her fingertips finally reach her clit, the scent of her arousal is heightened. Lecter opens his eyes a couple minutes later, realizing she’s remained quiet the entire time. When he looks over, it feels as if all the air has escaped his lungs. Clarice Starling is beautiful, he notes, but she is stunning like this. Legs parted, the muscles in her arm flexing ever so slightly with her movements under the water’s surface, chest and face flushed, and...her lower lip trapped between her teeth. That won’t do, he decides. 

“I want to hear you, Clarice. No holding back.” He watches her face, she has such a focused expression but remains quiet. After a minute more of silence, Dr. Lecter is about to address it again but stops short when he hears the most alluring sound escape her lips. Before he can even begin to hope to hear it again, he’s granted another ravishing refrain. And with that, he suddenly becomes very aware of how constricting his pants feel. However, the doctor has mastered self control over the years so he simply endures. He’ll have her, but patience is key. Lecter would never force Starling; he’d rather her come to him.

“What are you imagining, Agent Starling?” A moment passes where she doesn’t acknowledge his question, but eventually she shakes her head. He remains intent on achieving his goal. “Quid pro quo, Clarice. I tell you things, you tell me things, remember?” Little nudges here and there can be highly effective when obtaining information if it is done the right way. But with a quiet sigh, he realizes her stubbornness knows no bounds. And yet, he still knows it’s only a matter of time; he can wait. In the meantime, the doctor takes the opportunity to memorize the angel that threatens to lead him into temptation, away from his self restraint. A fallen angel, he concludes to himself with an amused expression. 

Just as he finishes tucking this moment away in his memory palace, Lecter is surprised by the breathy utterance falling from her lips. “Please touch me.” Her eyes are still closed, and was that...desperation in her tone? 

All too pleased with himself, Dr. Lecter replies, “Patience, Clarice.” His gaze sweeps over her one last time before he changes his own tone. “Now I think it’s time you get out and towel off; I imagine the water must be getting cold.” He says in a light, detached way. Lecter stands and retrieves a towel before approaching the tub again. Clarice stares up at him, bewildered by the sudden change in topics. He says nothing but reaches into the water and drains the tub. Dr. Lecter offers her his hand, and Starling seemingly contemplates taking it before she finally does. He helps her out of the tub then unfolds the towel and hands it to her. She wordlessly dries off, no doubt still stuck on what just transpired. 

Wrapping the towel around herself, Starling is just about to speak to get rid of the tension in the air when he gently scoops her up into his arms. She clings to him for security, not thinking twice about it. In mere moments, he lays her down on the bed, hovering over her. His lips are just inches away from her own. “Is this what you were imagining, Clarice?” 

Following that question, he isn’t the one that closes the gap between them, but it’s her pulling him down and crashing their lips together. It’s very different from his unrequited kiss some days before. It holds the same passion but much steamier. She bites his lower lip and he nearly growls, pulling away from her and staring down at her with a gaze so intense. Her pupils are dilated, letting him know how much she desires this as well.

Lecter sits up and kneels on the bed in between her legs, taking off his shirt. “I think it’s time I find out how you taste, Clarice.” Never being the type to pass up an opportunity for a good scare, he lays down and licks up the inside of her thigh before biting down. It’s not enough to draw blood, but it’s as close as it gets. She lets out a low moan, only tensing up slightly. He assumed correctly. His Little Starling does like it rough. Even though he knows she wouldn’t mind taking it, he reminds himself to be gentler with her this time, not wanting to add to the pain of her injuries. 

The doctor places a kiss over the marks left behind by his teeth then soothes it with his tongue. Starling squirms a bit, her hips jutting toward him. With a smirk he leans in close to her center, inhaling her scent one last time before tasting her. It’s one thing to tease her, but he was not going to deny himself of this pleasure any longer. Years had gone by of him fantasizing about this very moment. They both let out a moan at the contact. As he continues, he savors her. At one point, he has to grip her hips to hold them down as his lips close around her clit. There is no doubt she is ready for him between the wetness that seems to be pouring out of her and the way she grasps at the bedsheets. 

Starling’s eyes are closed, but the sound of a belt clinking causes her to open them. She watches him as he removes his pants, getting a glimpse of his manhood before he leans over her again. He brushes a strand of hair out of her face then says, “What do you need, Little Starling?” She only wriggles her hips toward him a little in response, never one to make things easy. He grabs the side of her hip, holding it so firmly he’s sure it will bruise. But she doesn’t care, so neither does he. “I want you to beg for it, Clarice.” She glares up at him, setting her jaw in clear defiance.

“Beg.” He commands once again. She’s about to respond with a snarky comment but stops short when he rubs his cock against her cunt, brushing against her clit. It steals the air out of her lungs. “Sweet girl, you’ll come to find out those bratty tendencies of yours won’t do you any favors when you're under me.” To punctuate his sentence, he applies pressure to her entrance with the tip. 

“Mmm...please.” She says, arching her back a little as she finally gives in.

“More. Let me hear how badly you want it.” Dr. Lecter replies. For once in his life, he’s running out of self control being pressed against her like this. His eyes trail over her body, taking it all in again. Her body is the definition of perfect; lithe with subtly toned muscles and soft curves. Her breasts are on the smaller side, but they’re supple and beautifully shaped with pert rosy nipples that are responsive to the slightest touch. 

“Please. Please fuck me, daddy.” She practically sobs out, her blue eyes meeting his own. 

The sound of her pleading is like music to his ears. The use of that name to address him does not fall on deaf ears. He quite enjoyed it; something he’ll have to circle back to at another time. Not wasting another minute, he pushes forward and envelops himself in her wet heat.

Clarice’s head falls back onto the pillow behind her, a quiet “fuck” slipping past her lips. He feels bigger than she imagined from the glimpse she got a few minutes prior. It takes her a moment to adjust.

Dr. Lecter is sure he hasn’t felt this level of pleasure in quite some time, possibly ever before in his life. He moves inside of her slowly at first, drawing out every one of her moans as if it’s a precious commodity. She cups his face, bringing him down for another kiss. He slips his tongue into her mouth as he simultaneously thrusts into her particularly roughly. Her legs tighten around him, bringing his lower half flush against hers before he pulls back again. 

As the doctor quickens his pace, Clarice’s soft moans and whimpers become more and more frequent. “Cum for me, Clarice. Now.” Lecter growls out. When she finishes, he’s not far behind her. “Good girl.” Her velvety walls squeeze around him so deliciously that he spills every last drop of cum inside her just a minute later. 

Dr. Lecter prides himself on his heartbeat always remaining slow and steady, but as he lays down beside her, he realizes it’s pounding away in his chest. It leads him to wonder what kind of affect this woman could have on him long-term. If she’ll stay.

He pulls her against him, and she rests her head on his chest. Clarice listens to the rapid, but slowing rhythm of his heart, smiling to herself. He kisses the top of her head then says, “I usually don’t repeat myself, Clarice, but I would like to ask you something once more.” She absentmindedly traces patterns on his chest and hums in acknowledgment. 

“Go for it.” She replies.

The doctor sucks in a breath before asking, “Will you run with me, Clarice?” 

It takes her a moment to consider, but still way shorter of a time than she’d expect. She would have to leave her whole life behind to follow him into an even more unknown future. Starling leans up on her elbow, a soft smile gracing her face as she gazes at him. “Yes.”


End file.
